Mourning a Loss

Do you remember the first words that fell off your lips?
Or the first thing that caused joy to well up?
I don’t.
Funny, the things we remember.
So important, our first steps.
Yet we never get to see them.
Remember the rush of our chubby baby legs working how we wanted.
Or our first words.
I wonder what mine were?
Maybe it’s better not to know.

So silly, the way we see ourselves.
Lost in memories and thought loops
Experiences we label and poke at (from an unsafe distance).
Staring into mirrors that distort
And ask the wrong questions.
Peering into eyes that hide behind plastic masks,
Use paint to hoodwink reality.

What do you remember?
I get these flashes.
I don’t want them.
My chest breaks in half
Everything is frozen in blazing nausea
And the world goes dark
They color my sleep in muddy hues
Robbing intimate moments of safety.
I got so sick
Sick of paying for others’ sins.
Confused body, still paying with sickly health.

The only things I remember, hurt.
I wish it wasn’t that way.
Wish I could hold happy childhood memories in my thoughts
Like little flakes of gold, suspended
Always there to infuse me with heart swelling snapshots.
The foundation all the healthy people have
The people who don’t fall apart every day.

But protection came at a cost.
My mom bought me gold flakes at a field trip once
I think they’re in storage.

I wish I could remember
The day I was born.
Fresh.
New.
Untouched.

I wonder what it felt like.

But if I tell…
If I tell, you might look at me
Like I’m made of porcelain, so easily broken
Or smothered in slime I can never remove
(Even though I didn’t put it there)
It infuriates me.
Perhaps if I hurt you, you won’t see me as weak
But I’m not a bully, so I’ll wait for you to hurt me first.
Silly memories, telling me you will.

I wish I could remember what I felt the day I was born.
Would I be the same person?
Would there be something at the center of me, holding me up?
Convincing me that I am solid and here and…
I wish I could remember.
What emotions flooded my body, the day I was born?
Can you take me back to the beginning, before everything became broken?

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Something Whispers

 

Filled to Empty

Once Again

Just so you can

Poke holes in me

 

Shaped into something

Beyond

Recognition

 

Soft thumps

Abrade the inside

Of my rib cage

And something odd

Flitters through

My chest

 

It isn’t life but tubing

Left there from

When I hated myself

A little less

 

Electronic beeping

Reminding me

To pretend I am alive

 

I am not.

Not today.

Not inside this skin.

 

Not inside

This mind

That falls down

So easily

 

Sometimes it seems

So silly

That I ever thought

I could be real

 

To walk without oiled joints

Or charged lights

Behind my eyes

From which everything

Was stolen

 

(by me)

(something whispers)

 

I forgot

I was the one

Behind the mask

Wearing the gloves

Leaving no trace

 

I forgot

I was the one

Who let this happen

Who roused from slumber

And did nothing

Who watched from behind

Serpent eyes

And let you die

 

I wonder

If it would hurt less

If I was never human at all

 

Simply a stain on the porcelain

The sand slipping down the time

Shivering down the hourglass

 

I forgot

How to tell the truth

Or which it was

 

I forgot

How to speak

Without a tongue

How to see

Without a spine

 

Can I walk

Knowing the many times

My very breath crawled

 

Why?

Why do we torture ourselves?

How many of us are there

In here?

This one little body

 

Pieces hiding

Shuffling about

Slipping behind curtains

Fixing smeared mascara

Redressing so no one notices

 

Their stories

Are shuttered up

Dust chokes the sunrises

Moonlight can’t hide

The shadows

 

I forgot

How the tip of a fingernail

Could hold so many

Dead skin cells

 

They aren’t all mine

 

(yes they are)

(something whispers)

 

And I deny everything

Black lipstick that doesn’t

Smudge

Or leave

Photos behind

 

And no, I wasn’t

Made by accident

Why does everyone ask?

We all clamber around

Waiting for a story to be

Unfolded

It wasn’t an accident

We remember

I shake my head

We know

Our skin

My skin

We feel

 

It’s like they can see

I’m made from

Different coincidences

Kissing beneath the

Atom bomb

 

Waiting for something

To change

Or someone

To notice

The shadows

Etched into my bones.

 

(can anyone see me?)

(no, I don’t think I can)

(something whispers)

 

By Daphne Shadows

Loving and Letting Go

The WordPress prompt for today is “lovingly”. (I’ve never tried a daily prompt before, so I checked their page out.)

 

The first thing that I thought of was a baby lizard I found when I was a munchkin. I carried the lizard around for hours until my grandmother convinced me to let it go back where I found it.

I wanted to take care of it. I wanted to keep the lizard safe and happy.

“If you love it,” she said, “let it go”.

It’s funny to me that my child brain understood that.

How did I understand that?

There was so much pain and fear going on in my life as a child – but I understood love.

I wanted that little lizard to be happy, so I put it back on the fence where I found it, hoping it made it back to its family and lived happily and safely.

I was a little sad to let it go, but I was confident that it would be better off in its lizard world, not my human one.

 

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This prompt brought a few animal memories back to me.

I never realized how much I wanted a baby animal to keep and play mom to. I was always dreaming of finding a bird egg and keeping it, hatching it, and raising the little bird in its own little habitat I’d create for him/her.

I never wanted to be a mom to an actual human baby. As a child, I wanted a fluffy little bird, duck, lizard, owl, kitten, or something wild that I’d find outside and keep. I had this overwhelming urge to find and protect every little animal I came into contact with.

Of course, if you take me to a shelter now, I have the same reaction. Maybe a bit more psycho. I want to take all the dogs home!!!

 

I find it interesting that my small, child self understood love on such a pure level. I remember the feeling it evoked. Love was something beautiful and perfect. It was a balm, a safety that couldn’t be contested. And I always equivocated it with animals.

 

(wrote this sometime early February)